Love is not a Victory March
by karatam
Summary: They've always had something in common.  Mike/Santana friendship, Bike, Brittana


**Title**: Love is not a victory march (it's a cold and broken hallelujah)**  
****Rating**: PG  
**Pairin****g**: Santana/Mike friendship (Brittany/Santana, Brittany/Mike, Santana/Brittany/Mike friendship)  
**Spoilers: **up to 'Special Education'**  
****Word Length: **2000**  
Summary**: They've always had something in common.  
**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to Fox and Ryan Murphy. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this work of fiction.  
**A/N**: Thanks to Kay for the awesome beta.

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/ /

Most people think that it's been Santana, Brittany and Quinn since kindergarten, that they've ruled their schools since they were four years old as a trinity with the power of fear behind them.

But they're wrong.

Quinn was actually a relatively new addition, befriended by Santana and Brittany at the beginning of middle school. Quinn had been new to the neighborhood and Brittany had thought she looked incredibly lonely standing on the edge of the playground with her perfect curls and immaculate summer dress. And so the ruling trio of McKinley High had begun.

But really, this story is about another trio, one formed years earlier in the sandbox when Santana was five and Brittany was four.

The sandbox was easily the most coveted spot in the entire yard and Santana always made sure she was first out of the door to claim it for herself and Brittany, glaring at any other kid who dared get too close. At least, she did until the day that Brittany looked at her with those big blue eyes and asked if Santana could please let Mike play with them today.

Brittany had met Mike in the dentist's lobby that morning and they had bonded over their dislike of the gross mouthwash the lady made them put in their mouths and their approval of the Lego set in the corner.

When Santana looked to where Brittany was pointing, she saw a little boy, straight black hair sticking up at odd angles. Glasses were perched slightly askew on his nose and he was scuffing the toe of his left shoe into the dirt, looking kind of uncomfortable. He seemed harmless enough, so she turned back to Brittany and shrugged.

Brittany squealed in happiness and hugged Santana tight around the neck before skipping over the Mike and tugging on his hand. Santana watched their linked hands and was suddenly inexplicably unhappy. Her eyes met Mike's and she realized that Mike was going to be trouble for her.

/ /

Mike sat two rows behind them in both math and English class. He tried to keep his attention focused on either the teacher or his colour coded notes in front of him, but his eyes always drifted back to them.

He saw how Santana would always lean in a little farther than necessary to whisper something in Brittany's ear, how Brittany would leave her right hand on Santana's knee even when she needed it to write things down. He saw how Santana could say something incredibly mean to Finn or Rachel, but then turn around and regard Brittany with a tender look on her face. He saw how Brittany could get really frustrated with herself over not understanding what the teacher was saying, but would calm down and smile when Santana placed a hand on her back while leaning over her desk to explain something again.

They were best friends, had been since before he knew Brittany. Santana would always have first dibs when it came to Brittany; it didn't matter what Mike did. He had gotten there a bit too late.

It hurt more than her wanted to admit to anyone, including himself.

/ /

When Mike asked Brittany to their very first school dance, Santana wasn't sure what to do. But Brittany just looked radiantly happy, so she pasted on a smile and allowed Quinn to ask the expected questions and laughed at appropriate moments. She would _not_ let it show that her heart was breaking inside her chest. _Nobody_ needed to know that, not Quinn and especially not Brittany.

The afternoon before the dance, Brittany was at Santana's house trying to figure out what to wear while Santana was trying to figure out how to keep a happy smile on her face for the next four hours.

When Mike knocked on the door, hair mostly combed and a daisy in his hand, Santana wanted to slam the door in his face. Instead, she held the door open and clenched her jaw when Brittany gave him a shy smile from the top of the stair case. _It's like a freaking 80's movie in here._

When Brittany kissed Mike on the cheek afterwards, Santana had to look away, swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat. Sometimes, she wished she was a boy, just so that Brittany would notice that she was _right there_, had always been there, waiting for Brittany to see her.

/ /

In freshman year, Brittany and Santana join the Cheerios, as everyone fully expected them to. The Cheerios as a whole kind of frightened Mike (thanks in no small part to their coach, who was - Mike was pretty sure – an actual demon), but he couldn't say that he didn't appreciate the uniforms.

Far more often than he was willing to admit, he had stopped in the middle of the hallway to watch Brittany walk by. He wasn't proud of it – his mother had always taught him it was rude to stare – but he couldn't help himself, her legs were just so long and perfect. And on more than one occasion, he had caught Santana staring at Brittany, her knuckles white as she gripped her binder far too hard.

Their eyes would occasionally meet and they would immediately glance away, pretending that they hadn't noticed anything at all. Santana would grab Brittany's arm or link their pinkies and drag her best friend away in the opposite direction of Mike, even if that wasn't where they had been heading before. Mike would watch them go before hurrying to his next class.

Once, he let himself think about the fact that Santana got to share a locker room with Brittany every day after practice. After the initial burst of irrational jealousy (since he had no right to be jealous over what Brittany did at all), he decided that he would never think about that again. He usually succeeded.

He wanted to ask Brittany out, wanted to desperately, had wanted to for at least four years, but that look in Santana's eyes always made him hesitate. There was anger in that gaze, but something else as well, something that spoke of longing and hope and despair and a wish that things could be different. He knew that look, could see it in the mirror sometimes, so he never said anything.

/ /

The week they spent planning and practicing the choreography for sectionals was simultaneously both the best week and worst week the two of them had experienced for months.

Mike was ecstatic that he got to dance with Brittany. And not that kind of gross dancing that happened at school dances with no real beat or true movement, but _real_ dancing. Dance with pattern and counts and lifts and footwork. As much as he enjoyed being with Tina (and he really did love his girlfriend), there was something incredibly freeing about spinning across the dance floor with Brittany in his arms. He _loved_ to dance and no one understood that better than Brittany.

Santana was mainly happy that people had finally recognized just how talented Brittany was, something she had known for years. Her heart had very nearly glowed when she had seen just how happy the dance solo made Brittany, when she had seen that grin on Brittany's face that didn't leave for days. Dance made Brittany happy, it always had. Santana just wished that dancing didn't have to include Mike in every step of planning for sectionals.

They each resented that the other had to be there, but kept their feelings to themselves, like they had for years. They continued the dance around Brittany that they had been dancing since they were five years old.

And all the while, Brittany danced on, smiling and oblivious to both the joy and heartache she left in her wake.

/ /

Santana sat on the edge of the auditorium stage, feet kicking out like a little kid's. Her chin rested on her chest and she absently hummed 'Valerie' under her breath.

The silence broke when the door to the auditorium opened and Santana looked up to see who entered. Mike walked slowly down the left aisle until he was standing next to her.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Santana regarded him for a moment before shifting slightly to her right, indicating that he should join her. He braced his arms and swung himself up to sit at her side, their hands close, but not quite touching.

They sat in silence for long minutes, both lost in their thoughts. That their thoughts both centred on a certain blonde was not lost on them.

Mike was the first to speak. "So, she's serious about dating him, isn't she?"

Santana closed her eyes and said, "It seems like it. I haven't seen them apart for more than five minutes in weeks."

He opened his mouth, turning to face her, but stopped when he saw the look on her face. She lifted her eyes to his and blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears that were pooling under her eyelids. Mike reached out to wipe at her cheek but she turned away sharply and swept her forearm against her face roughly.

"Santana…"

"Don't you _dare_ say it'll be okay. It is _not_ okay. Doesn't she get that I just want _her_?" Santana's voice trembled, but Mike doesn't draw attention to it.

"Oh San." Mike reached out and placed his hand over hers, squeezing it, trying to pour every bit of comfort that he could spare into it.

"And why him? She'd never paid any attention to him before, and now she's in love with him? What the freaking fuck?" The tremble in her voice was gone and there was an edge to it now. "I could have understood if she picked you, I think I would have been able to accept that."

Mike just raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh really?"

That got a laugh out of her, breaking the somber mood somewhat. "You're right; I would have been a bitch to you. Well, more than usual, anyways."

Mike laughed with her and then they settled into silence for a while.

"Does she really not see it?" Mike was looking up at the ceiling, his hand still resting on Santana's.

"I don't know. There are times I could swear that she knew – knew that we'd do anything to make her happy, but then there are times when I don't think she has any idea how we feel."

"Aren't we a pair?" The smile on Mike's face was far more sarcastic than Santana was used to seeing. It made her wince slightly, knowing exactly what had put it there.

"We've been in love with the same girl for eleven years. How have we not killed each other yet?"

"Brittany would have pouted, and you know as well as I do that neither of us can resist that smile," Mike said. "And I'm with Tina now and it's going great, really great. I'm moving on, you know, from her."

"Oh really? So the way you watch her anytime she's near you, like she's the only one in the room, is just _platonic_?" Santana rolled her eyes as Mike blushed.

"I'm trying, okay? I have to try." And he did, he needed something besides chasing after a girl who hadn't seen him as anything but a friend for most of their lives.

Santana nodded, knowing what he meant and wishing she could do the same. Mike leaned over to nudge her shoulder with his and Santana tilted her head, resting it on his shoulder.

"Do you ever think it'll hurt less? Do you think it would be easier if we just didn't love her so much?" she asked.

"I don't think we could stop if we tried," Mike said. He flipped his hand over so that their fingers linked together.

They sat there in silence until the warning bell rang.

/ /

_Fin_


End file.
